The favorite bathing place on the beach is managed by Charlotte Pettman. It is reached by a “coast guard” cutting in the cliff, an inclined passageway sloping from the road to the beach under the bridge. It is a sort of artificial cañon. Bathers are charged sixpence each, “six baths for two-and-six, twelve for four-and-six.”
Mrs. Pettman advertises her baths by a circular which contains the following touching verse, no doubt assisting trade materially.
“I pitied the dove, for my bosom was tender, I pitied the sigh that she gave to the wind; But I ne’er shall forget the superlative splendor Of Charlotte’s sea baths, the pride of mankind.”
In his early days of struggle the great Charles Dickens, for a few shillings, penned these lines as a “puff” of Day & Martin’s blacking.
So far as the waves are concerned, the cliff is as solid as it appears to be, but it has yielded to the hand of man, and at Charlotte Pettman’s baths there is a statue sculptured in the cliff, entitled “My first plunge.” It is the life-size figure of a young and beautiful girl in bathing costume, just about to take “a header” from the platform. It is by Priestman, an English artist. The door is opened to art lovers for twopence each, or as much more as the generously disposed may be inclined to give, the proceeds being handed over to a local hospital.
One of Margate’s architectural features, as seen in the accompanying illustration, is its handsome clocktower, standing in a conspicuous position on the Marine drive. It was erected in honor of the Queen’s Jubilee in 1887, and has a musical chime of bells.
Like Brighton and some other seaside resorts, Margate is democratic in the height of summer, but select in the autumn. In olden times the season commenced in June and continued until October. Margate offers every inducement to a prolonged season. While London is miserable under November fogs and humid atmosphere, Margate is brilliant with glorious days and bright skies; fine weather from August until Christmas.
Americans, of course, must flock to the largest hotel. They like size, and many of them patronize the Cliftonville Hotel, which, to be sure, is a large establishment in the most fashionable, and certainly the most attractive part of the town, near the grand cliffs, and overlooking the sea--a splendid site and a beautiful house exteriorly, but not as well kept as an American host might care for it.